


The Ballad of Jenny

by trekkie12



Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: Abandonment, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Creation, Drinking, F/M, Falling In Love, First Love, Major character death - Freeform, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Non-Graphic Abuse, Non-Graphic Violence, Other, Robot Feels, Robots, Slow Build, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 09:23:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trekkie12/pseuds/trekkie12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The life and times of Jenny the Toaster. From the birth of her concept to the end of her existence: a story of romance and sadness, hardship and humanity. <br/>AU: Jenny is not a toaster, she's an automaton with a toaster function, among other things. She's a cutie. :)</p>
<p>Trigger Warnings: <br/>Abuse Inflicted on a Robot (not described in detail, possibly non-triggering)<br/>Robot Abandonment<br/>Major Character death</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ballad of Jenny

**Author's Note:**

> If I get good enough feedback, I'll post the next chapter or two and that's how it'll go. When people stop asking, I'll stop posting. This started as an odd concept that turned into an rp account that turned into a class assignment that turned into fanfic, so have fun, broskis! I have this version, but I also wrote it in a different style. The first half is told through prose, a poem, a short play, and another poem, then conceivably I could move on in the second half in prose alone. Comment with which version you want me to post (or both?) if you'd be so kind?

Madame Colette DeTouré was widely regarded as the best automaton builder in the world, which she considered to be as close to reality as the bottom of the Marianas Trench was to the dark side of the moon. She rather believed that she could build automatons that functioned, but in her opinion, nothing she had ever built was up to par with her mental designs. Madame DeTouré’s main issue with herself was the fact that whenever she tried to create a design for a new robot, she would make the most perfect design yet, and then attempt to build it. Once she started to work, however, she found herself becoming distracted and whatever she would be thinking of or new interest she would develop, her robot would slowly become related to such activities quickly. Her most frustrating quality in her own opinion proved to be the one that earned her fame. She mused over the irony of her misery as she sipped her tea at her desk, waiting for her special guest.

Her study was a sanctuary for genius: quiet, a good size, and furnished with fine cherry veneer Hepplewhite pieces. The red silken over-curtains were drawn, allowing the spring sun to cascade in from the view of the DeTouré country estate through the lace under-curtain, causing a pattern like scattered rose petals to form across the entire room. Colette pushed her burgundy Porters chair backwards, stopping it with her heels before it hit the wall of books behind her, nearly all of them forming her collection of robotics manuals and sketchbooks filled with old designs.

She had dressed herself in her finest gown, made from mostly silk, and belonging to the decade before. In this new era of calf-length skirts and bobbed hair, she felt that a woman in her forties such as herself should remain modest and keep to the pseudo-Victorian dresses and corsets. In doing so, she had managed to create an imposing silhouette and a formal air, which was only fitting for the situation at hand. One would not wish to give one’s professional ideal the impression that they were not worth formality.

Colonel Peter Walter I walked in primly, his silver-streaked hair cut short in the name of the fashion and slicked back at the sides, allowing his wavy bangs to sit along the top and side-swept. He wore a dark black suit, all crisp and pressed with a carmine lapel handkerchief and a top hat the color of a starless night. Doffing his hat, he extended his unoccupied hand to the fellow builder behind her desk.

“Madame DeTouré, it is truly an honor to see you. You are most gracious for inviting me here.”

Madame DeTouré placed her hand in his and nodded gently while he kissed it, as per custom.

“Colonel Walter, I assure you, the honor is mine. Your work is an inspiration to us all, but to me more so than others.” she said with a tight smile, her accent weighing slightly on her words. Walter chuckled softly as her words sank in.

“I believe you flatter me too much, Madame. Your work was my inspiration to enter the business in the first place. Speaking of which, may I inquire as to why this meeting was called for? I’m certain that a woman as busy as yourself would not take such valuable time for a social call.”

“You are unfortunately quite correct, Monsieur Walter. I came to discuss with you the issue of sexism in automaton building. I wondered if a builder of your expertise could provide some insight as to why the overwhelming majority of automatons I have seen are male, with the only exception being maids or waitresses?”

Walter’s eyes froze on her face, his expression dropping blank.

“I... Well, sometimes, it is thought that women are not cut out for hard work. Since humans were made in the image of their creator, we create mechanical beings in our image, and thus this thought is projected into our creations. Feminine automatons are built for comfort, not durability. They simply aren’t made to do tasks that require brute strength because that is considered men’s work. I hope you understand that I mean no offense by stating the facts of Western culture.”

DeTouré’s face hardened, her hands steepled as she stood up to reveal her full height. While she was short and plump, this did not prevent her from intimidating her colleague. Her dress rustled with silk against silk grating for dominance, sliding along the boning of her inner wear.

“Monsieur Walter, I am determined to make an automaton of a feminine build to do ‘men’s work’, as you call it. I shall make it tough and powerful... She shall...” she paused, thinking of what to set her brilliant brainchild towards, what goal would she achieve?

“She shall build airships. She shall rivet and hammer and put together the finest airships!” Madame DeTouré sat down again, satisfied with her argument. The look on the Colonel’s face was enough to tell her she’d won his awe. His face soon turned to a cocky grin, showing his rather flashy grin.

“Madame, I can hardly wait for such a creation to greet my eyes!” Walter exclaimed, “I await her completion with baited breath. Do send word when she is completed, I’d be delighted to see a demonstration immediately! I remember the first time I ever saw your work, I could hardly believe my eyes. I was eighteen, and I attended my first Automaton and Robot Makers Seminar. You were giving a lecture on programming action and personality chips, and I’d never seen anything like Rémy, your tailor-‘bot. He moved and talked like any human there, but he was clearly made of gold-plated steel. I’ve never been more amazed by anything in my life than I was then. I have no doubt that this riveter of yours will be worth the wait I shall endure in the meantime. I hope I will hear from you soon?”

“Colonel Walter, when she is finished, you will hear of her first from the headlines she makes.”

Grinning, he averted his eyes towards his lap.

“Please, call me Peter.”

“In that case, I prefer Colette.”

The two exchanged a look that could only be described a flirtatious intimidation. Fetching his hat, Peter Walter walked out of Colette DeTouré’s study. Unbeknownst to either of them, when the female roboticist sat down at her desk,  she immediately began to design the good Colonel’s daughter-in-law.


End file.
